Page 39 of Crossover

Deep down, I knew I was being reckless, but I couldn’t be around him.

“Leave. Now.”

He flinched as if I’d physically struck him, his eyes reflecting the agony of a man watching his world crumble before him. The love we once shared lay in ashes at our feet, a bitter reminder of how cruel fate could be.

For an eternity, Grayson stood motionless, as if searching for the right words to mend my shattered heart. But such words didn’t exist. How could they when the same man who had once made me feel cherished and protected had dealt the blow that caused me the most unimaginable pain?

How was a human heart supposed to reconcile this twisted, dark web of thorns into anything logical?

“You may hate me,” Grayson said, his tone tight with emotion. “But I will never stop protecting you, Ivy. Every one of my breaths belongs to you, and so long as there’s one left in my body, I will use it to keep you safe.”

He studied my face, as if committing every detail to memory, uncertain if he’d ever lay eyes on me again. Then, with a final, longing look, he turned and walked out the door.

The click of the latch echoed with a resounding finality, and when it did, I sank to the floor, my legs no longer able to support the weight of my grief. Sobs racked my body, tears flowing, as I mourned the loss of my father all over again. And the loss of the man Grayson had been to me before everything had changed.

21

GRAYSON

“How many innocent people have I killed?”

Daniel had corrupted this mission; how many other missions had he infected?

I took a small sip of scotch, its flavor coating my tongue with a bittersweet burn that mirrored the ache in my chest. The hotel bar’s dim lighting cast a depressing glow across worn leather chairs and scratched wooden tables—where, undoubtedly, countless people had drowned their own sorrows with a bottle.

After Hunter left to get Luna and take her somewhere safe, Jace sat down when he saw me sitting alone in the corner of the hotel bar—the farthest I could bring myself from Ivy. I told myself to leave. After all, Hunter’s security team was still here, protecting her.

But when I reached the door of the hotel, my feet froze, my fingers twitching at my sides. The thought of walking away, of entrusting her life in someone else’s hands, made my gut twist in agony, so I’d changed into a non-bloody shirt a guard had given me and sat down here.

Jace’s brow furrowed. “This isn’t your fault, Grayson.”

“Isn’t it?” My gaze bore into his, warning him not to waste his time trying to absolve me.

The fact that I was talking to Jace about a CIA mission was a testament to how much had changed. I normally never discussed these things with anyone—the only reason I shared anything with Hunter was because he had come to my aid in the middle of the night and I owed him answers. And earlier tonight, I’d shared the bare minimum. But this time, I told Jace about the mission with her father because my trust in the CIA and Daniel was gone. At this point, sharing secrets with Jace seemed inconsequential compared to what I’d done.

“You need to forgive yourself,” my brother insisted.

My eyes clenched shut.

I never considered myself a good man—anyone who willingly takes lives for a living cannot delude themselves into believing they are good, no matter who their targets are. But I did have good intentions. Protecting the innocent, ending those destined to destroy others, and delivering justice to those who had inflicted unimaginable pain.

These intentions were the fragile thread that stitched the two sides of my soul together—the pure boy before he was damaged by tragedy and the scarred man who took pleasure in delivering pain to monsters. For years, I’d walked the razor’s edge between good and evil, and my intentions had served as my only moral compass. Without them, I would plummet into the abyss of darkness and never return.

But as it turned out, intentions meant nothing.

Only facts did, and the fact was, I’d killed an innocent man. A man who dedicated his life to making the world a better place, who meant everything to the woman I’d grown to love.

I rubbed the spot between my eyebrows. “I spent my whole life trying to do the right thing, only to become the villain in someone else’s story.”

In all my years as an operative, I’m ashamed to admit I’d never given much thought to the families of the men I’d killed.Fixated on the lives I’d supposedly saved, I viewed death as a blessing.

But now, not only was I grappling with the shock that I’d ended an innocent life, but I was also coming face-to-face with the ramifications of my actions. The aftermath I’d left behind.

A daughter’s emotional trauma, the enormous financial strain that demolished any hope of her having a normal life. The overwhelming stress and anxiety she’d faced, left holding the bag for her grandmother’s medical care. This was a woman who didn’t deserve any of it. A kind, giving soul who spent her days saving others, and with one bullet, I destroyed her life.

I deserved to have a front-row seat to the destruction I’d caused, to feel every ounce of this burn in my soul. But Ivy didn’t. I couldn’t believe I’d done this to her. As selfish as it was, I wished it had been anyone else I’d killed than someone dear to her.

“I’m the man in the woods,” I said to myself.

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